Hidden Truths
by Rambling Scribe
Summary: Harry has always thought that Ruth is an excellent analyst. Spoilers up to 4.9. Ruth/Harry, so if that's not your thing, then don't read it.


**Dislcaimer:- Spooks belongs to Kudos and the BBC - I just borrow them from time to time :)**

**A/N: This story is set between 4.9 and 4.10 so spoilers up till then.**

**Thanks to the POGs for their unstinting support and encouragement.**

* * *

**Hidden Truths**

_I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I_

_Did, till we loved?_

_**John Donne**_

-----

Ruth started as a hand placed a glass in front of her. "Harry."

She'd been so engrossed in what she was doing that she had failed to notice him approaching her desk.

"You know what they say about drinking alone."

"It doesn't usually bother you."

There was a flash of something in his eyes. It could have been anger or amusement. She hoped it was amusement.

He didn't reply but sat down at Zaf's desk and casually propped his feet up on the corner of it. His eyes never left her and she felt uncomfortable at the close scrutiny.

She fiddled with the pen she was holding. "I-I was only joking. About the, uh, the drinking alone thing…"

"I know."

She looked at him long enough to note that he had loosened his tie. It added to the insouciant pose he had adopted and rather suited him, she thought.

"How did your meeting with Juliet go?"

He grimaced. "We had an exchange of views."

"Lively was it?"

Harry laughed. "You could say that." He pointed towards the untouched glass on her desk. "You're not drinking."

Ruth picked up the tumbler and took a tentative sip of the contents. "Glenfiddich, if I'm not mistaken. Run out of Laphroaig have you?"

"Yes and yes. It's nice to see your analytical skills go beyond Homer and obscure Persian poets."

There was a teasing, faintly dangerous edge to his voice and it made her skin prickle. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation.

"Oh, that's the beauty of this job. I mean, I've been able to turn my hand to a number of different things. Although I haven't been too good at some of them, fieldwork for example."

"You did well, passing me that memory stick."

The air suddenly felt warm, thick with the memory of that all too short moment of contact. In the subsequent days she'd wavered between thinking their meeting had been loaded with hidden meaning – his comment about regretting not giving her a lift home replaying constantly in her head – to dismissing it as her overactive imagination.

"I…" She shrugged. "It's the one occasion I haven't been chased by a madman with a weapon."

"No, just stalked by some weirdo on the bus."

"Harry, I wasn't being serious when I called you that. I really didn't mean-"

"Ruth." He said her name softly and she raised her head to look at him. "I know. I do understand your sense of humour."

She let out a small ragged breath. His comment was vitally important to her although she wasn't entirely sure why.

He drained his glass. "Another?"

"I haven't finished this one."

"But you'll keep me company?" He was on his feet and heading back to his office.

When he returned, he again took up residence at Zaf's desk and poured himself a generous measure of whisky. Ruth watched him, grateful for the semi-darkness of a late-night Grid. His silver cufflinks glittered as they caught the light from her lamp.

"So, how was dinner with Zaf?"

She stared at him. "Dinner?"

"Yes. I understand you and Zaf went out for dinner the other night."

"How did you know?"

"He mentioned it, in passing."

Harry was trying to feign casualness but, Ruth noted with some amusement, it wasn't working.

"Right. Yes, it was fine."

"_Fine_." The way he said the word made it sound like an insult.

"Hmm, yes."

It was clear he wanted to know more but she wasn't going to help him out, at least not just yet.

"You like Zaf."

She wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement. "He's very likeable, don't you think, Harry?"

"I…yes, I suppose he is." He looked as if he was going to say something else but then changed his mind.

"Anyway, it was for Adam really."

"Adam?"

"Yes, Adam and Jo were there as well. You knew that, didn't you?" It was clear from the look on his face that this was new information.

"Yes." There was a pause. "How was he? Adam?"

"Quiet, withdrawn." She looked at him levelly. "He's grieving."

Harry gave a small nod of acknowledgement.

"We just thought he might want a bit of company seeing as Wes is still with his grandparents."

"Good idea."

"We weren't trying to cheer him up. I mean, how can you? There's nothing anyone can do in that situation. I can't imagine what it must be like, to lose the person you love in such a violent, horrible way. I don't know what I would do if something like that happened to me." She stopped abruptly. "Sorry."

"Don't be. You're absolutely right; it's a terrible thing to happen to anyone."

She held his gaze for a long time. Unusually, it was Harry who looked away first.

"I suppose there is one small consolation." He spoke quietly, almost to himself. "At least they both knew how they felt about each other."

"Yes."

He watched her intently. She was an excellent analyst; able to divine the meaning in the most obscure of texts. She was also quite beautiful and the faint blush that crept across her face added to her radiance.

She smiled nervously at him before looking away again. "There is that."

* * *

**Please review, thank you. :)**


End file.
